


Sing Your Praises

by Samatura



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Ahegao, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 05:37:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7922551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samatura/pseuds/Samatura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a life of servitude and obedience to the Shimada Clan, Hanzo is starved for praise and attention that Jesse McCree is more than happy to give him.</p><p>One shot smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing Your Praises

“Hoo! Nice One!” 

The words of encouragement rung out from behind Hanzo as he lowered his bow, his arrow finding its mark as skillfully as ever. The man sucked in a breath of air, surprised by the deep drawl that weighed down heavy on him, and the warmth it caused in his chest and the fire that ran through his veins. His face flushed slightly, shaking his head and muttering something in Japanese as the sound of spurs jingling came up behind him. A hand fell on his shoulder, and he turned sharply to face the gunslinger that stood above him.

“Must you always make such commentary?” He snapped.  
“‘Course Sweetheart. Somebody’s gotta sing your praises,” McCree grinned, shooting him a wink. “Don’t see why yer so opposed to it.” 

The smaller man shook his head, grunting. “We have discussed this…” His voice lacked edge, more heavy with exasperation that anger. McCree nodded softly, letting his hand drag down the dragon tattoo on Hanzo’s arm as he stepped in front of him and back towards the battle, shooting him one last look. 

“Okay okay, I’ll wait. It’s just so hard not to compliment the best damn shot on the team. But I’ll save the sweet talk for later then, huh?” He teased, winking again before turning with a flourish of his serape and ran back into the fray towards the payload, spurs clattering as he ran.

Hanzo tried to fight the shiver that ran through his body, rolling his shoulders and shaking his head again before taking off behind the gunslinger with feather-light footfalls, trying to ignore the heat pulsing through him.

.0.

 

“Darlin’ you done yet? I’m ‘boutta jump outta my skin here.”

Hanzo smirked at the drawl that came from the other room, muffled by the sound of the closed door and the running shower under which he stood. Warm water poured over him, hair a glossy waterfall that fell over the rock hard muscle of his back and shoulders. He liked moments like this; when he could let the day wash away, let the smell of battle be replaced by gentle perfumed scents, let his pain and stress roll off his back and down the drain with the soapy water. It was a momentary lapse in his ever moving life, a break from always having to be somewhere or doing something. It was when he was truly at ease.

All this, and the knowledge that the cowboy was lying in wait for him behind the door only made him warm in ways the water couldn’t. He let his head fall back, the rest of his shampoo running from his hair, as his thoughts drifted along with his hand, dragging lazily down his heated flesh, indulging himself. McCree was probably in his bunk doing the same this, just as eager as Hanzo was. It was a game they played, in the dark hours of the early morning when all the base was asleep, when they could sneak to one room or the other without being seen. 

Not that they had to; They were always near each other during the day, and it would take a fool to not see how close they were. It was simply a result of Hanzo’s upbringing. He had never been able to be forward in the Shimada Clan, had always had to exude an air of stoic emotionless power, as all the Shimada’s did. Well, as all the Shimada’s were supposed to, save Genji. But Hanzo had always followed in the Shimada way, had been hardened and molded by years of strict discipline and training. It was this that stuck with him, despite the years that had past and the shedding of his role as the Shimada heir. He was wary to show emotion, to show weakness, to hear praise.

The thought of that made him shudder again, and reminded him of the large man waiting for him behind the door, all too eager to give it. McCree, with his deep rumbling voice and kind heart, speaking words Hanzo had never had addressed to him in all his years.His hand tightened around himself, and he took a deep breath to slow his building excitement as he shut off the water and quickly stepped out of the shower. He did a half-assed job of drying himself before loosely wrapping the towel around his waist and sliding the door to the side.

What lay before him was just as he had expected. McCree was laying across the bed, tanned skin the only color in the spartan void of Hanzo’s room. The cowboy was sitting up, back leaning on the wall, with his legs spread enough for Hanzo to get a view of the thickness that was held in his metallic hand, glinting in the moonlight that streamed through the window. Jesse’s eyes lit up as the Shimada stepped into view, and he grinned as he drew near.

“Damn, darlin’, you’re pretty as a picture,” He muttered, voice low in an almost reverent awe of the man who stood before him, and held out his human hand, urging him closer. Hanzo smirked, cocking his head. His hair was still wet and fell across his shoulders, water glistening off his skin. “You aughta be hung up in a museum with a body like that, shit..” 

His words sparked the fire that was already burning low in his chest, and he shot McCree a look as he wordlessly dropped the towel to the floor. The gunslinger whistled low, eyes running down Hanzo’s body, drinking him in as he whispered barely audible ,”God Damn.” He pushed off the wall, crawling across the bed to where the other man stood, until he could sit on the edge and run his hands down Hanzo’s sides. The archer looked down at him, eyes locked. Hanzo moved slow, graceful, regal, with purpose, his arms falling over Jesse’s shoulders and into his shaggy hair. He straddled him just as slowly, letting his cold damp skin rest on the other’s burning body, McCree’s length resting against his at stark attention. 

McCree let a hand travel from Hanzo’s waist, moving up the curves and dips of his chest, along his throat, until he held his cheek in his hand, thumb dragging along his lower lip, parting it slightly. “You’re a work of art, Hanzo…” He whispered, voice rough as gravel, thick with arousal. Hanzo breathed out onto his thumb, body quivering with anticipation. This was always how it started.

“I was watchin’ you out there today. Shootin’ like the Devil was in the audience. You didn’t miss a single shot. I mean it, baby, you really are the best shot on the team, we’d all be dead without you.” Hanzo shuddered in his arms, and Jesse rocked his hips ever so slightly, grinding their lengths together. “You saved Lena from that Talon agent, she’d be dead if you didn’t have such good aim, shit, you’re so talented…” McCree meant all of what he said, eyes burning with sincerity and awe, and it tore through Hanzo like a wildfire. Sweat prickled on his skin, glistening with the water that dripped from his hair. His eyes fluttered shut as his head fell back slightly, and Jesse took this moment to wrap his metal arm around his back and pull his chest tight against his, ducking his head down into the crook of Hanzo’s neck, nipping at the skin as he continued to speak.

“You single handedly defended us all, you’re a fuckin demon on the battlefield,” He grit out, biting into the flesh, and Hanzo let out a weak groan. The praise shot straight through him, straight to his length, twitching against McCree’s, and he dug his hands deeper into Jesse’s hair. He lived off McCree’s praise, it kept him sane, filled a void in him left since his childhood. The compliments had felt so foreign at first; Felt like they must have had ulterior motives. How could anyone compliment him? After living his whole 38 years without it, he had never thought anything of it. But then there was Jesse, with his kind words and sincere praises, never cold, never silent, always quick to let him know how talented he was. Surely, he had thought, the man must’ve been playing him. But Jesse always meant every word.

It had left him ravenous.

Hanzo let out a low moan as McCree bit and sucked into his neck, hands wandering from his hair to rake across the muscles of his back, bucking his hips. The gunslinger grunted, but his hips only pushed back, their lengths rubbing and dripping with excitement. Jesse released his skin with a wet ‘pop’, tongue dragging up to his ear, breathing hot and heavy as he thrust back against him, whispering in directly in his ear in a voice that made Hanzo shudder. “You know it all, don’t ya? Ya know how talented ya are, how good a shot ya are. Ya carry the team every single time, but you don’t ever say nothin’.” Jesse laughed, rough and hot, and Hanzo couldn’t hold the noise that left his lips as McCree continued. “And after all that, after savin’ my hide and everyone else’s, you carry your pretty ass home and ride me better than anyone else in the whole damn world.” 

With those words, McCree bit down on his ear, earning a loud cry from Hanzo, and his human hand reached between them to hold them together, jerking in heavy fevered movements. Hanzo was panting hard, tongue hanging out over his lower lip, eyes half lidded. He was digging deep red marks into Jesse’s back, frantic to try and keep himself tethered to something real. His body was on fire, on cloud nine. He had spent so long disliking himself, plauged with guilt, that god was it nice to just feel good about himself. 

“Jesse,” He groaned, precum leaking out over the gunslingers busy fingers, and McCree grinned, kissing his cheek roughly. “Please…”  
“What is it darlin’?” he asked, and Hanzo moved to kiss him hungrily, tongues mashing together as he gripped into McCree’s back, trying to pull them closer and fuck himself more into the man’s palm. “You’re so polite, sweetheart,” McCree groaned into the other’s mouth. “But I don’t know what you want unless you use your words.” He finished, tightening his grip on the two of them and running his palm flat across the heads of their members, circling them together. Hanzo bit into McCree’s lip, biting back curses. 

“Please,” he groaned out, panting heavily against the other’s mouth. “M… More…”   
“More what?”  
Hanzo let out a pained moan, bucking his hips hard, grinding against the other man. He could feel the heat building in his body, could feel himself getting closer. “Give me more,” He breathed, voice lost to the feeling of his member in McCree’s hand. “Tell me more.”

“God, you’re even the best at beggin’, sweetheart,” With those words, Jesse released his hold on their lengths and let it fall to the small of Hanzo’s back, pulling the two of them down to lie on the bed. As soon as Jesse’s back made contact with the mattress, he was lifting Hanzo’s ass as the archer momentarily released him, frantically reaching for the drawer on the nightstand. Jesse spread his legs as Hanzo slathered his hand with lube, running it along McCree’s member with fumbling fingers that elicited a low moan from the man. The noise burned Hanzo, sparks shooting in his veins, and reminded him how close he really was. He shuddered as he dragged his lube covered fingers to his entrance, shivering at the cold sensation on his burning skin. Jesse lined himself with Hanzo as he took a deep breath, locking his eyes with the man beneath him. 

McCree’s eyes burned with adoration and lust, hands resting on his hips as he stared into the man above him as he slowly lowered himself. They moaned in unison as Jesse bore into him, thick length slipping effortlessly inside the other. “God, Hanzooo,” he drawled out, the man in question panting with his mouth agape, body shivering as McCree bottomed out. “You’re so tight darlin’,” He breathed, gasping when Hanzo lifted himself, dragging himself slowly up and down, hand resting on McCree’s chest as he thrust slowly along with him.

“I mean it, sweetheart, you’re the goddamn best in the whole world. Ain’t no one as good as you, ain’t no one feel as good as you,” The words were spoken in time with his thrusts, which gradually built up speed as Hanzo lost himself in the cowboy’s praises. “I’ve been thinkin’ bout this since this mornin’ when I watched your fine ass take that perfect shot, shit, Hanzo,” He moaned, and Hanzo did along with him. Jesse grinned, grabbing a fistful of the man’s wet hair, pulling it back in a rough jerk. Hanzo screamed in surprise, and Jesse grinned at the sound, hips building up speed as he fucked into the other man.

“You like that, don’t ya? Like knowing I can’t stop thinkin’ about this perfect body of yours all the time, even when yer savin my ass in battle,” He grunted as Hanzo bounced on him, mouth open and tongue lolling out, saliva dripping down his chin as he moans and grunts slipped out of his parted lips. “Ain’t no one as good as you, darlin’, not on the battlefield, and sure as fuck not in bed, fuck Hanzo, I can’t-” Hanzo let out a panicked sound suddenly when McCree hit that spot inside him, and Jesse grinned victoriously, grip tightening on the man’s hair as he drilled into him over and over. Hanzo could feel build in him, feel himself getting close, and tears welled up in his eyes as he rode McCree, leaking out onto his chest. He was so close.

“J-Jesse,” he panted between each thrust. “Jesse, Jesse, Jesse, Jes-”  
“Hanzooo…”  
“Jesse, Jesse, I-I’m so-”

McCree shot up then, arm tight around his waist as he pulled Hanzo tight against his chest and drilled into him furiously, the sound of their skin slapping echoing off the bare walls. He wrenched Hanzo to face him, drinking in the sight of the archer, face flushed and dripping with sweat and drool, eyes locked together as he growled out, “Hanzo, I love you.”

Those words broke Hanzo, words he was starved for since childhood, words he knew with all his being McCree meant, and he screamed as Jesse’s lips crashed into his, orgasm crashing through him. He came hard, shooting onto McCree’s chest, moaning and crying as Jesse rode it out. His body was a fire, cold and hot, nerves shot as Jesse continued to fuck into him, grunting into their rough kiss before he jerked suddenly and let out a long groan onto Hanzo’s lips. 

A moment passed where the two held each other, shaking and dripping in sweat, moaning against the other, before Jesse slowly pulled them back to the mattress. He let out a satisfied sound, still buried in his lover as Hanzo curled on his chest, fingers toying with the forest of chest hair on his dark skin. He wanted to say so much, but words failed him, lost in the afterglow that enveloped them. McCree ran a large hand over his back, gentle and soothing, until their breathing returned to normal, and Hanzo paused, looking over the strong features of the man beneath him. 

“Thank you,” he breathed softly, and McCree cracked an eye open, smiling softly before leaning in, wrapping his arms around him to draw him close.  
“‘Course, darlin’,” he smiled, kissing the other lovingly before shooting him a wink. “Like I said, somebody’s gotta sing your praises.”

Hanzo couldn’t find it in him to disagree.


End file.
